We walked to the by-the-hour hotel, certainly not glamorous, but that I knew was safe. No one cared about ID, but there was a sign-in ritual where mos... men signed as “John Smith”. Looking over his shoulder, though, I giggled as I saw what he wrote:“Spartacus”.Going onto tiptoe, I kissed the back of his neck. “That signature earned this kiss. But I’m Spartacus, you know.”We went up to the room. There were some interesting working girls in the hallways, for whom he had a courteous hello and a. The mayor seemed enthusiastic enough about me staying anyway,so I decided to just use the guest room.After walking into the mansion, I was surprised to find it looked evenlarger on the inside than it did on the outside."Welcome home Master," a young Asian maid greeted with a curtsy. I startedfeeling a little aroused as I looked at the exposed cleavage of her C-cupbreasts in her frilly French maid uniform, but I quickly shook off myperverted thoughts. I am a guest here and undressing the maids. More

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